


Shift

by Shiverstyx (LittleEars)



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Car trouble (but no accident), Fluff and Humor, M/M, Modern AU, horny bird seeks shiny, maybe eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28061691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleEars/pseuds/Shiverstyx
Summary: He'd taken up driving for the rideshare service a few months ago, starting off with both driving people and cargo alike, but complaints about his driving - the most common being, "I arrived safely but I think my soul might have separated from my body," -  meant that he mostly just delivered food for them now.(the Chermes modern rideshare service AU no one asked for)
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93





	Shift

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written a single thing since like 2011 but this ship grabbed me by my dick, dragged me into Tartarus and made me fight my way out with nothing but a word processor, so here’s the professional associates modern AU that absolutely no one asked for, but that I’m throwing at your feet anyway.
> 
> I hope it is at least 1/10 as fun to read as it was to write.

  
  
  


$25 in quarters hadn't been too difficult to find.

Even though he was at work at the time, Hermes practically lived out of his old Mazda anyway. Despite its size, the thing had a surprising number of hidden pockets where any number of things might fall, quarters included. Between the ashtray, the center console, the floor, and what could only be hidden interdimensional pockets that spit out coins whenever he came searching, it wasn't long before he had enough to trade for the roll of gold dollars in the manager's safe.

Not that he really needed them. The coins were heavy in his pocket, but there was something satisfying about carrying them around, listening to them clink and slide against each other. He felt kind of like a prince, actually. Or, maybe more appropriately, like a bird with a shiny trinket. 

Anyway, the shop couldn't use them to give out change, so buying them off of the store just sounded like an easier option than being sent back to the bank, waiting in line, and exchanging them again. Quicker, too.

Maybe not perfectly aligned with his earlier argument for efficiency, Hermes spent the rest of his shift teaching himself coin tricks off the internet. He still managed to get all his closing work done in less than 15 minutes anyway. 

Finally off another long shift at job number one, Hermes now scrolls through the messages on his phone with one hand while he rolls one of the coins over the knuckles of the other, gold gleam catching the parking lot streetlight every time it flips over his ring finger. He responds to the incoming messages from the last few hours quickly, like someone else might go over a checklist: a thumbs-up to his boss to confirm that closing went okay, a quick "sure" to his cousin who wants to stay over again this week to get away from his dad's, and a ping to his half-sister to let her know he was on his way home. Just the usual out-the-door routine before hopping into his car for the drive.

Despite the late hour, Hermes feels like he's buzzing with energy - hovering around the car like he's desperate to not have to get in and sit down, even though he's been standing for the last nine hours. 

A notification bounces in the corner of the screen, a tiny boat with cartoon eyes alerting him that a delivery opportunity is available. Job number two beckons. He only just got off for the night, and it's already late...but he's bored enough. Might as well look.

Hermes taps open the Styx app. He'd taken up driving for the rideshare service a few months ago, starting off with both driving people and cargo alike, but complaints about his driving - the most common being, "I arrived safely but I think my soul might have separated from my body," - meant that he mostly just delivered food for them now. What was there to say? He liked to go a little faster than most of his passengers tended to appreciate. Food, however, was always better when it arrived as quickly as possible. More importantly, food couldn't complain or experience trauma.

Plus, now he could use his own car instead of borrowing Artemis's. Hers was a newer, nicer vehicle, but his own was much faster, despite its haggard appearance. It was easy to pick up a few minutes of work through Styx whenever he had spare time, and the extra money helped a lot. Especially whenever Zagreus came to stay. 

With the memory of the totally-emptied fridge clear in his mind, Hermes figures he has time for just one quick delivery to eat up some of his excess energy, and accepts the job - the diner for the pickup is a little out of the way, but the customer's delivery address isn't too far from his own. He could just take it and then head home from there, with a little more money in his pocket. Easy. 

He pushes off of where he's leaning on the hood of his car, phone into one pocket and the coin into the other, brushing some of the fallen leaves off of the hood of his car as he goes. The door is wrenched open unceremoniously, groaning on its hinges, a few tiny flecks of chipped yellow paint flying off like dust as he pulls it closed after himself. Clipped into the dashboard mount, Hermes' phone is almost totally obscured by the boa of colourful feathers and intertwined plush snakes that hang from the rearview mirror. It doesn't matter - he's familiar enough with the restaurant and the roads that seeing the GPS on the screen was pointless. One of the good things about living in a smaller town and driving all over it all the time. 

As he puts on his seatbelt and starts the car, something croaks and rumbles menacingly, deep under the dashboard. Hermes pats it absently, but otherwise pays it no mind as he pulls out of the dark parking lot and into the street, gone even before the warm array of leaves that had been remaining on his car flutter to the ground, trailing behind him.

\--

_ GRRRKKKKKLLLRRRR!! _

Well, that's not a good sound. Definitely not the normal little gurgle of sounds that usually came from the dashboard. Those sounds, Hermes was familiar with. He knew them. Maybe even kind of liked them sometimes. But this is less of a charming gurgle, and more like the horrible, grinding shudder of a high-powered lawnmower devouring a bicycle.

As if the sound isn't already terrifying enough, the steering wheel seizes in his hands. He can't turn. Hermes immediately slows down, steadying the wheel to the best of his ability with his arms, which suddenly feels impossible to steer in any direction. Gripping the wheel with his hands as tightly as possible, he turns it with great effort and pulls just off of the road. 

Rumbling to a stop in the dirt, the car lurches and sputters as Hermes hurriedly puts it into park. He looks around the cabin of the car, making sure the food in the passenger seat hadn't ended up on the floor in the panic. Both bags seem okay, and a quick glance to the back seat confirms everything is fine there, too. The engine continues to grumble and churn for a moment after being shut off, then quiets entirely. With no one else on the road so late, Hermes can even hear the rushing waters of the nearby river.

Or, well, that might be the blood pounding in his ears.

Hermes lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding, slumping back into his seat. Somehow, even though stopping the car meant it was  _ supposed _ to stop making noise, the complete lack of noises of any kind makes Hermes even more concerned.

Almost cautiously, he turns the key in the ignition again. It doesn't even have the decency to growl or sputter.

Well, shit.

Five minutes and two phonecalls later, Hermes is back to digging through his car, same as earlier in the night, though this time quickly and discerningly pulling out as many loose clothing items, stacks of envelopes, and useless trinkets as can fit inside his backpack. Which, for Hermes, is a lot. He carefully places anything from his first job at the bottom of the bag, then stuffs everything else on top in a bulging pile. Only a thick, brightly-coloured scarf is left unable to fit, so he just wraps it around himself. It's not really cold enough to wear one, but it's better than carrying it around.

Satisfied that anything else left in the car isn't important enough to add to his load, he steps away from the street on the other side of his useless metal carriage of death, waiting for the replacement driver sent by the Styx management office to take over the delivery. The towing company he'd called afterward is thankfully owned by a friend, so he won't have to stick around to wait for the truck to take his car - he can just hitch a ride back home with his professional associate.

Backpack filled to bursting, messenger bag stuffed with loose papers slung over his shoulder, and the two bags of takeout hanging from his arm, Hermes is relieved when headlights come around the corner after only a couple of minutes of waiting. On the phone, he'd been told someone was "actually quite near" to where he was already, but didn't really expect anyone else to be this close to the river so late at night. The town, just like any other, did have its own weirdos, though.

Maybe now, waiting on a ride from a complete stranger at almost two in the morning, isn't the best time to be thinking about late-night town weirdos. He lifts his hand in a wave, as if expecting the driver to somehow miss the searing bright yellow of his Miata, only for his arm to slow uncharacteristically as the other vehicle pulls into view.

It's a hearse. It's a literal fucking hearse.

Hermes' arm drops. He checks his pulse, just to be sure. He didn't just die, right? He looks over at his own car, as if it might suddenly appear mangled before him, then down at his feet, as if his ankles might sprout heavenly wings and flit his soul away into the clouds. When none of those things happen, his eyes snap back to the literal fucking hearse in front of him. 

This can't be the other driver, right? Would they even let somebody drive customers around in that?

A lit sign with the Styx logo brightening up the corner of the windshield clears any doubts. And, okay, it really isn't out of the ordinary for other drivers to have themed rides, although usually they're more along the lines of princess limousines or pirate ship Suburbans. With Halloween creeping up rather quickly, it's at least seasonally appropriate. 

Hermes watches as the long car approaches, then pulls to a stop, the rear of the vehicle lined up perfectly to where he stands. The windows are dark, probably covered on the inside, but the interior seems to almost glow - a pleasant, intriguing violet against shining black. 

Hermes presumes he's meant to use the casket entrance. Suddenly he wonders if there's actually a coffin in the back for him to lie in during the ride. That might actually be kind of fun. Scary, definitely. But fun!

Hiking his bag up higher, Hermes rounds to the back of the hearse and pulls open the curtained door. He isn't sure what he really expected to find when the door swings open, but for some reason "perfectly normal car seats, comfortably arranged" is not high up on the list. Surprising, even though Hermes knew he obviously wouldn't find a ride-in coffin in the back. And kind of disappointing, once he notices the partition that separates the driver from the passengers. 

There's some kind of hinged ramp or something he could swing down to walk up into the space between the seats, but Hermes ignores it entirely. Both his backpack and messenger bag are tossed to the floor, then shut in without their owner. He jogs up the length of the car, opens the passenger-side door, and gets in. 

Rider's etiquette be damned, there's no way he's going to sit in the back and quietly mind his own business! Plus, he'd have at least one other chance to ride in the back of a hearse - might as well take the only opportunity he might have to sit in the front.

"Hello, my good professional associate!" He begins before he even fully sits down, shutting the door and settling the bags of takeout on the floor between his feet. "Thanks for picking me up on such short notice, my little yellow scrap there took a heck of a dive for some reason! I hope you don't mind if I sit up here with you. After a scare like that, I'd rather sit with a friendly face than all alone in the back!"

Pulling on the seatbelt, he turns to properly meet said friendly face, and suddenly finds himself looking at a skull. His hands release the belt immediately, and it snaps back into place with a loud clatter.

Well, okay, it's only half of a skull. The lower half. Printed on one of those facial coverings for motorcyclists. In the relative darkness, though, illuminated only by the low purple glow of the interior lighting, he felt for a moment like he'd been looking at the skeletal face of the grim reaper.

The driver also wears a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, even though they're in a car and it's well-past sundown. A violet gleam across the lenses burns back at him even in the dark, like fiery eyes, and he can just see a peek of pale hair tucked into the back of the cycling mask. Even with so much covering his face, Hermes only feels intrigued and curious by the man before him.

Hermes realizes he's just openly staring, like some kind of creep, but quickly recovers with a bright smile, reaching for the seatbelt again.

"I like your face!" He jokes, pointing at his own scarf to indicate he means the skull-printed cloth. "Fits your whole theme there. You've got a really interesting setup with the hearse and everything! Really had me going for a minute there when you pulled up, I thought I was about to take a trip down to the underworld in your death carriage." 

The driver still hasn't said a word, and offers no response even now, but seems to straighten a little at the compliment. After a moment, he only nods once. Totally unbothered, Hermes continues.

"I'm Hermes by the way! The dispatcher said your name is Charon?" The other nods once again, and Hermes' smile gets wider. "It's really nice to meet you, Charon! It's not very often that people in our line of work get to meet our fellow associates. And I'm sure this guy," he pats the boxes of takeout at his feet, "appreciates your efforts in his pursuit for 2 A.M. diner gyros. Shall we?" 

Charon's considering hum is muffled by the facial covering, but the deep timber of his voice rumbles through the dark and pours over Hermes like smoky incense. He's suddenly grateful when Charon's attention turns back to the road before them, and he puts the car into drive. 

Allowing himself a moment to take in his surroundings, Hermes looks about the car interior, really just kind of trying not to keep staring at the man next to him. Everything is bathed in calming violet light and shadow, the source of which Hermes can't seem to find no matter where he looks. A golden chain hangs from the rearview mirror, and the ceiling of the car is dark, dotted with tiny scattered lights to imitate the night sky. The detailing is actually really nice - not just the cleanliness, but also the actual intricate details carved into the wooden accents on the dashboard, center console, and the inside of the doors. Water-themed, mostly. He traces the smooth line of a wave with his finger near the door handle, watching in the rearview as his car disappears behind them. 

"Pretty fancy little setup you have in here!" Hermes turns back to Charon as he speaks, gesturing up at the tiny lights embedded in the ceiling, "Creates a really nice atmosphere. The back is so boring by comparison though! You really keep all of the extravagance to yourself, don't you big guy?" He can't help but slip in a teasing wink, even knowing Charon won't see it. 

Charon's mask puffs outward, and Hermes laughs with him good-naturedly. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your private little space here. Way more exciting if I'm the only passenger who gets to see it!"

Although the other man couldn't have anticipated anyone sitting up front, Hermes notices there aren't many personal items strewn about either - the complete opposite of his own car, if the number of items he'd wrested out of it and into a mere two bags were any indication. Just a slim golden case is tucked into a pocket in the center console, a tiny, brown cinched pouch nestled in with it. 

Right above the little alcove, Charon's phone lights up on the dash in front of them, propped up in its stand to show the rest of the way to the delivery address. A hand reaches out to dismiss something on the screen, and Hermes' eyes catch the gleam of several rings as they reflect the phone's glare. He's only distracted for a moment - really, just one! - before his eyes snap back to the numbers displayed on the screen, and realization dawns on him.

"Are you kidding me??" He groans, slumping back into his seat dramatically. "I was really only three minutes away from the delivery location before breaking down! Probably would have made it there in under a minute at this hour." Charon's gaze flickers to him, then away just as quickly, and Hermes is sure he can hear the gears turning in his head, trying to work out if Hermes is fast or just reckless. He smiles. Even with so little to go off of, Charon is at least easy to read. "This guy really got lucky that you and this boat of yours were around to pick up the final stretch. Really helped me out, too!" 

Charon doesn't respond, but even in the dim light, Hermes thinks he sees what might be a crinkling around his eyes, as if he's smiling under the mask.

Hermes figures the other man is probably quiet because of the late hour, so he just keeps talking. Some story about work fills the air between them - Hermes has so many, he hardly has to think about it and just lets his mouth run. 

With the excuse of making conversation, Hermes can resume looking at the side of Charon's face, his hands, his clothes. Watches his expressions, subtle reactions to Hermes' tale that let him know the other man is listening. Observes the smooth way he operates the car, hands gliding as if through water, with the ripple of his sleeves following every movement. The steady grip of his palms, wrapped firm around the steering wheel...

Hermes snaps back to awareness, continuing his story without even a moment's pause despite his lapse in attention. Probably better to not get lost in his rather attractive coworker's motions, however graceful and intriguing. Charon doesn't appear to have noticed, or at least doesn't seem annoyed to be talked and stared at, even for someone that appears to be going out of their way to separate themselves from any would-be passengers with a physical barrier.

It's only a minute or two before the digital assistant announces their arrival, at the only house on the block with the lights still on. Hermes pauses his anecdote - a story about the time he had a passenger for seventeen minutes before he realized there was a pygmy goat zipped up in their jacket, sleeping peacefully - to sprint up the driveway and set the bags on a porch swing. He sends the delivery confirmation on his phone and zips back to the car, bouncing into the passenger seat with a quiet "oof!" and the jingle of coins in his pocket.

"All done, boss!" He grins back at Charon as he buckles his seatbelt, this time managing to avoid whipping himself with it first. Eyes meeting Charon's, he finds the other looking at him almost expectantly, and feels himself get hot under the intensity of his gaze. "Um, did the dispatcher also give you my address, or do you need directions? I can also just grab my things and book it from here, I live right in the next neighborhood over!"

Charon blinks at him once, appearing caught off-guard by the question, but simply shakes his head and gestures at his phone on the dashboard, the Styx-branded app still pulled up. Hermes waves a hand in the air dismissively.

"Nah, easier to just tell you the directions honestly!" Hermes leans forward, peering into the dark neighborhood street ahead of them. "Go up to the end of the block here and make a left." When he sits back, Charon is still looking at the side of his face, but quickly turns back to the road as soon as Hermes glances over. As he puts the car into drive, Hermes launches back into his story.

"So, the goat guy! Once I realized he had a goat in his jacket, of course I had to see it. So he unzipped the jacket for me, and, wouldn't you know it, he actually had FOUR little guys stuffed in there!"

The car halts abruptly, something in the back of the car rolling around noisily. Charon looks back over at Hermes in what he has to assume is complete surprise and alarm. Hermes can't help himself - has laugh at the first totally open expression he'd seen on the other man's face. The driver continues eyeing Hermes with disbelief, then looks down at his own clothes and picks at the cloth, as if wondering,  _ Could somebody really fit four goats in their jacket?? _

Hermes, now nodding, "Yeah! Four little goats! I couldn't believe it either. Mostly I can't believe it took me that long to notice. He shifted around kind of funny when he got in the car, but otherwise you'd never guess the guy was packing quadruplets in there!"

Then, Charon  _ laughs _ , and suddenly all notion of ignoring any interest in the man is totally gone from Hermes' thoughts. Now that he's heard that laugh, rumbling and warm like coils of smoke, rough like ground spices, he already knows he  _ has _ to hear it again. As they drive the rest of the way to Hermes' house, he continues to give directions, but now even more thoroughly distracted.

He sends Charon around the block once by accident just because he isn't paying attention, and maybe also to extend their time together by just a little. By the time they've made it back around, Hermes is already trying to think of ways to further delay their parting.

Charon parks in front of Hermes' house, that same something rumbling around in the back as he pulls to a stop, and turns to face him. Before he even has a chance to say anything - although Hermes is beginning to suspect he won't, at all, ever - Hermes is already speaking.

"This is me! Thanks for giving me a ride, boss. Don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been nearby. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important by asking for your help."

Charon's answer is a kind of dismissive shrug as he reaches forward and plucks a slim box from the center console, the same one that Hermes had noticed earlier. He realizes now that it's a cigarette box, and begins to nod in understanding.

"Oh! I didn't interrupt your work break, did I? Sorry about that, boss! If you don't want to wait until you get back to where you're headed, you're welcome to hang around here for a moment and get your break! I'm not quite ready to head in and tell my half-sister I might need to borrow her car for the week."

Convenient! Hermes is kind of proud of himself for that one. Charon seems to consider for a moment, then nods and turns to exit the car. A grin already forming on his face, Hermes follows quickly after him, trotting to the rear of the vehicle once he's out. He's surprised, actually, to find Charon already leaning on the back of the hearse as he comes around, thumbing open the delicate golden case and removing something hand-rolled. Surprisingly quick guy, for someone who looks as calm as stillwater. 

Under the streetlight, Hermes is able to see Charon at least a little more clearly. He's dressed well, in dark, purplish-black, fit well to his form and accented in shimmering gold. His arm stretches forward, and Hermes' eyes wander across the curves of firm muscle up his arm, wondering what he does that could possibly have results like  _ that _ . His eyes continue upward, falling onto Charon's mask...thing.

He really needs to remember to look up the name of that thing later.

Charon is looking at him expectantly, and Hermes realizes he has held out the open case to offer to him. He shakes his head, raising a palm to politely decline. "No thanks, boss, not for me. You go ahead though, no need to pause on my account. I'll just stay upwind of you while you enjoy it."

The other man nods, slipping the slim case into some hidden pocket like it was never there at all. He reaches up and pulls down the edge of the mask, letting it rest around his neck like a cowl while he lights up. With the few seconds of flickering light, Hermes gets his first good look at Charon's face - severe, somewhere between gaunt and hardened, and accentuated by the hard line of a scar running diagonally over his lips. Charon's eyes turn up to Hermes', and he can just see the slight quirk of the other man's lip before the little flame puffs out.

Now that he's been caught staring, Hermes feels like the flame is being held up to his own face instead. He fidgets, slipping his hands into his pockets, finding the coins there again and playing with one idly while words start to fly out of his mouth again.

"So, uh, do you always work this late? Town like this, not a lot of people are really up super late since there's not really anywhere to go…" Charon lifts an eyebrow, Hermes immediately relaxing again with a chuckle. "Ahhh right, okay, okay, I'm out this late too, so I can't say much, I understand! But it's different with deliveries! I don't think I've ever met someone who can't appreciate a midnight snack. But where is there even to go around here at 3am?"

The answer he gets is just a shrug, punctuated by the long, lazy line of smoke streaming from Charon's mouth. Unable to help himself, Hermes continues on to ask, "You must have a day job of some kind in order to support all of those extravagant purchases of yours, yeah? I can't imagine that driving around two or three late-night weirdos is enough." The previously-mentioned line of smoke churns into a large cloud, blowing into the air after another of Charon's little huffs of laughter. He reaches into his breast pocket, fishing out a small, embossed card and handing it to Hermes.

  
  


CHARON

Luxury Vehicle Customization

  
  


Hermes flips the card over, but the other side just lists his contact information. No hours or a location. 

"Luxury Vehicle Customization, huh? That definitely explains a lot!" He laughs a little and tries to hand the card back to Charon, who only holds his palm up to decline, insisting he keep it. Hermes pockets the card, sliding it in next to his phone.

"I don't feel so bad now. I don't know how much Styx is paying you to drive me home after all that mess, but if I know anything about their work practices - and I do - I imagine it's not even half of what you'd usually get for fare!" 

Charon fixes him with a confused look, like he has no idea what Hermes is talking about. This is a look he receives often, but usually just because of the speed at which words exit his mouth. Charon has kept up with him so far, at least as far as Hermes is able to tell, which can only mean…

"Wait wait wait, do you mean to tell me that the Styx app didn't even offer to pay you to take me home? That's completely ridiculous! The dispatcher told me I could just get a ride home with you and wouldn't have to worry about calling someone else, but I didn't think she meant….! I thought for sure they would…!"

He's already patting down his pockets, despite his words just moments ago about not feeling as guilty about Charon not getting paid his normal rate. But this is different! He didn't expect the company to just not pay him at all, without saying anything. Through all of his fidgeting and babbling, it's a moment before he notices Charon already trying to turn him down, to which Hermes shakes his head.

"Noooo no no, there's no way I'm leaving without making sure you get paid! I can't believe they did that…" He pulls his credit card out of his back pocket, then immediately puts it back when he realizes he has no real way to pay Charon with it. "I've gotta have something on me, hold on, I can at least…"

His hand digs into the pocket filled with gold dollar coins. Hermes immediately pulls out a handful, trying to shove them into Charon's hands, but he won't take them. 

"Please Charon, I couldn't sleep if I let you leave knowing you weren't going to get compensated for your time! The most common type of theft is wage theft, and I'm not about to contribute to that."

He must say something that makes Charon relent, but only just. The other man only nods, then reaches out and takes a single coin from Hermes's hand, holding it between two long fingers to get a better look in the dim light, before slipping it into that same, seemingly bottomless breastpocket. Hermes sighs, but it does pull a smile out of him.

"Alright, alright, fine! But I'll make it up to you - with my car out, I'm gonna need a ride to and from my day job for at least the next three days. If you're free and want some extra hours, I can text you when I'm ready and then book a ride with you on the app once you're here, so that you have first dibs on claiming it. Then I can pay you a little extra in tips every ride. How's that sound, boss?"

Rather than answer, Charon slips his own phone out of his pocket, tapping something on the screen before holding it out to Hermes. He's already set up a recurring event in his Calendar app - appropriately titled "Pick Up Hermes" - for the next three days, awaiting the entry of a time. Hermes smiles wider, punching in the schedule with a little extra padding than normal to allow him to get to work on time at a safe, human driving speed. He adds in his contact info as well, putting heart and feather emojis around his name. When he's done, he passes the phone back to Charon. 

"Thanks boss! If any of those times don't work for you, just shoot me a message so I know to take my sister's car instead. I don't think she'd really mind too much, but, for the sake of my own sanity as well as hers, I'd rather not keep her from any impromptu hunting trips with her girlfriend if I can help it." 

He pauses, looking up the driveway, just in time to see the curtains next to the door flutter. Pointing his thumb in the direction of the window, he turns back to Charon, a smile playing on his face again. "Speaking of whom, looks like I've been spotted. Don't think I'll hear the end of being brought home in a hearse. I should probably head in and reassure her I haven't perished in some horrible accident."

Nodding, Charon's short laugh rumbles through his chest again as he exhales another cloud of smoke through his nose, moving off of the rear bumper. He puts out his half-smoked cigarette, tucking it back into the box and - to Hermes' disappointment - pulls his face mask back up. As he turns and grasps the handle to pull the door open, Hermes suddenly has the clarity of mind to realize what was bumping around the back of the car earlier. 

Before he can say anything, the curtained door of the hearse swings open to reveal a floor littered with the contents on Hermes' bags. Half the papers from the messenger bag are strewn across the floor, and scattered atop them is the hodgepodge of clothing items and road trinkets from his backpack. 

Mostly, though, the floor is just covered in dildos. Like, a lot of them, actually.

Charon simply stops, saying nothing and just looking at the array of colourful phalluses before him. It does explain all the rolling and bouncing. Hermes comes forward and gathers up his belongings in his arms, shoving the papers into his bag and as many things as he can haphazardly fit into his backpack and just carrying the rest when it starts to take more than three seconds. Hermes usually doesn't get embarrassed, so he's not sure why he feels so flushed until a laugh pushes its way out, and he almost drops him armful of sweater and plastic-wrapped dildo as he doubles over.

Charon comes forward, an arm out to steady Hermes, as if ready to catch anything he might drop, and Hermes can only laugh harder. He looks up at him in near-tears, trying to gather the items in his arms a little better as he straightens up. "That was - hah!! I'm so- I'm really sorry Charon!! I should have packed those a little better, but I suppose you were going to find out tomorrow anyway." He turns his head to wipe any tears from the corner of his eye with a raised shoulder. "My day job is at Olympus, that sex shop near the tattoo strip. This is all…" he makes a vague gesture with the bright pink dildo in his hand, "...stuff from work."

He's thankful that Charon doesn't look freaked out, and in fact, feels again like Charon is hiding an amused smile under his mask. He shuffles the pile in his arms until he can support the bundle in the crook of one elbow, starting to dig for his keys with the other.

When he straightens, carefully balancing the bundle, Hermes looks up at Charon and notices some of his hair has gotten tucked into the motorcycle mask against his cheek. Without thinking, he reaches forward and gently pulls it free. Charon jolts at the slide of his own hair against his face, but Hermes' smile only cracks wider as he notices the blush peeking out from the mask.

"It was nice meeting you, Charon! Thanks again for getting me and all of my little friends home safely," he jokes, jostling the items gathering in his arms. "Drive safely on your way back to the river in your big ol' boat, and I'll see you again tomorrow for another riveting adventure!"

_ Hopefully one with less dildos _ , he doesn't add.

Charon nods just once again, watching as Hermes turns and heads up the driveway. When he reaches the door, he can't help but look back, and is amused to see the driver still standing in the same place at the back of the hearse, looking up at him. As soon as he's spotted, Charon seems to come back to himself and pointedly looks away, walking back to the driver's side door.

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Hermes turns, unlocks the front door, and steps inside, already thinking of tomorrow.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I might add more to this later, but for now, let’s consider it a oneshot. If you want to watch me draw and writhe on the floor in joyous agony over the smallest fandom crumb, I’m @/shiverstyx on the bird app.


End file.
